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YOSEMITE 
LEGENDS 




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YOSEMITE 
LEGENDS 

BY 
BERTHA H. SMITH 



WITH DRAWINGS BY 
FLORENCE LUNDBORG 




PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS SAN FRANCISCO 



»■■ ■■ ''^-^'MHlau^^^^^^^^ 




LIBRawv of OONeRFSS 
Two OoDles Received 

AUG 27 1904 
, Cooyrtrht Entry 

CLASS «- XXo. No. 

K I L 

COPY B 



? 53 531 



Copyright, 1904 

by Paul Elder and Company 

San Francisco 




The Legends 

Yo-sem-i-te, Large Grizzly Bear - - 

Po-ho-no, Spirit of the Evil Wind - 

Hum-moo, the Lost Arrow - - - 

Py-we-ack, the White Water - - 
Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah and Tis-sa-ack 
Kom-po-pai-ses, Leaping Frog Rocks 



Page 
1 



- 19 

- 31 

- 45 

- 55 



The Illustrations 

The Valley Frontispiece 

Mirror Lake 1 

A Grizzly Facing page 6 

Oaks- 11 

Po-ho-no in Bridal Veil - Facing page 1 4 

The Lost Arrow 19 

Tee-hee-neh - - - » - - Facing page 26 ' 

Cloud's Rest 31 '' 

Spirits of Vernal Falls - - Facing page 38 ' 

El Capitan 45 

The Spirit of Tis-sa-ack - Facing page 52 

The Three Brothers 55 

The Patriarch's Prayer - Facing page 60 




" Ke-koo-too-yem, the Sleeping Water." 



i) 



i 



Yo-sem-i-te, Large Grizzly Bear 




mw^ 




WHEN the world was made, the 
Great Spirit tore out the heart 
of Kay-o-pha, the Sky Mountains, 
and left the gash unhealed. He sent the 
Coyote to people the valley with a strong 
and hardy race of men, who called their 
home Ah-wah-nee, and themselves, the Ah- 
wah-nee-chees. 

The Ah-wah-nee-chees lived the simple, 
savage life, which knows no law but to hunt 
and kill and eat. By day the trackless for- 
ests rang with the clamor of the chase. By 
the flaring light of their fires the hunters gorged 
themselves upon the fresh-killed meat, feasting 
far into the night. They made war upon the 
tribes that lived beyond the walls of Ah-wah- 
nee and never knew defeat, for none dared 
follow them to their rock-ribbed fastness. 
They were feared by all save the outcasts 
of other tribes, whose lawless deeds won for 
them a place among the Ah-wah-nee-chees. 
Thus the children of Ah-wah-nee increased 
in number and strength. 
[3] 





As time went by, the Ah-wah-nee-chees, 
in their pride of power, forgot the Great 
Spirit who had given them their stronghold 
and made them feared of all their race. And 
the Great Spirit, turning upon them in his 
wrath, loosed his evil forces in their midst, 
scourging them with a black sickness that swept 
all before it as a hot wdnd blights the grain 
at harvest time. 

The air of the valley was a poison breath, 
in which the death shade hovered darkly. 
Before the Evil Spirit medicine men were 
powerless. Their mystic spells and incanta- 
tions were a weird mockery, performed among 
the dying and the dead; and when at last 
the Evil One passed onward in his cursed 
flight, the once proud and powerful band of 
Ah-wah-nee-chees was like a straggling pack 
of gaunt gray wolves. Their eyes gleamed 
dully in their shrunken faces, and the skin 
hung in loose folds on their wasted bodies. 

Those who were able fled from the val- 
ley, which was now a haunted place, eerie 
14] 



o 




^ 

© 



c> 



with flitting shadows of funeral fires and 
ghostly echoes of the funeral wail. They 
scattered among the tribes beyond the moun- 
tains, and Ah-wah-nee was deserted. 

A vast stillness settled upon the valley, 
broken only by the songs of birds and the 
roar of Cho-look when Spring sent the moun- 
tain torrents crashing over his head. The 
mountain lion and the grizzly roamed at will 
among the rocks and tangled chinquapin, fear- 
less of arrows; the doe led her young by an 
open path to the river, where trout flashed 
their colors boldly in the sun. In the autumn 
the choke-cherries and manzanita berries dried 
upon their stems, and ripened acorns rotted 
to dust upon the ground after the squirrels 
had gathered their winter store. The home- 
less Ah-wah-nee-chees circled wide in passing 
the valley. 

Over beyond To-co-yah, the North Dome, 

among the Mo-nos and Pai-u-tes, a few of the 

ill-fated Ah-wah-nee-chees had found refuge. 

Among them was the chief of the tribe, who 

51 





Yo-sem-i-te, Large Grizzly Bear 



u 



after a time took a Mo-no maiden for his 
bride. By this Mo-no woman he had a son, 
and they gave him the name of Ten-ie-ya. 
Before another round of seasons, the spirit of 
the Ah-wah-nee-chee chieftain had wandered 
on to the Land of the Sun, the home of happy 
souls. 

Ten-ie-ya grew up among his mother's 
people, but the fire of a warrior chief was 
in his blood and he liked not to live where 
the word of another was law. The fire in 
his blood was kept aHame by the words of 
an old man, the patriarch of his father's tribe, 
who urged him to return to Ah-wah-nee, the 
home of his ancestors, and gather about him 
the people whose chief he was by right of 
birth. 

So Ten-ie-ya went back across the moun- 
tains by a trail abandoned long ago, and from 
the camps of other tribes came those in whose 
veins was any trace of Ah-wah-nee-chee 
blood; and, as before, the number was in- 
creased by lawless braves of weaker bands 
[6] 



"A monster grizzly that had just crept forth from his winter cave." 



wmm 





i0sk. 



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5) 
41 



Yo-sem-i-te, Large Grizzly Bear 

who liked a greater freedom for their law- 
lessness. Again, under the favor of the Great 
Spirit, the Ah-wah-nee-chees flourished and by 
their fierce strength and daring became to 
other tribes as the mountain lion to the wolf 
and the coyote and the mountain sheep. 

And it chanced that one day while Ten- 
ie-ya and his warriors were camped near 
Le-ham-i-te, the Caiion of the Arrow-wood, a 
young brave went out in the early morning 
to the lake of Ke-koo-too-yem, the Sleeping 
Water, to spear fish. His lithe, strong limbs 
took no heed of the rocky talus in his path, 
and he leaped from boulder to boulder, fol- 
lowing the wall that rose sheer above him 
and cut the blue sky overhead. 

As he reached the base of Scho-ko-ni, 
the cliff that arches like the shade of an 
Indian cradle basket, he came suddenly upon 
a monster grizzly that had just crept forth 
from his winter cave. The grizzly knows no 
man for his friend; least of all, the man who 
surprises him at the first meal after his long 
[71 





Yo-sem-i-te, Large Grizzly Bear 

sleep. The rivals of Ah-wah-nee were face 
to face. 

The Ah-wah-nee-chee had no weapon 
save his fish spear, useless as a reed; yet he 
had the fearlessness of youth and the courage 
of a race to whom valorous deeds are more 
than strings of wampum, piles of pelt or many 
cattle. He faced the grizzly boldly as the 
clumsy hulk rose to its full height, at bay and 
keen for attack. With instinctive love of con- 
flict roused, the young chief seized a broken 
limb that lay at his feet, and gave the grizzly 
blow for blow. 

The claws of the maddened brute raked 
his flesh. The blood ran warm over his 
glistening skin and matted the bristled yellow 
fur of the grizzly. 

The Ah-wah-nee-chee fought bravely. 
While there was blood in his body, he could 
fight; when the blood was gone, he could die; 
but with the traditions of his ancestors firing 
his brain, he could not flee. 

Furious with pain, blinded by the blows 
[8] 




mybcc^m 




Yo-sem-i-te, Large Grizzly Bear 

from the young chiefs club and by the blood 
from the young chief's torn flesh, the grizzly 
struggled savagely. He, too, was driven by 
the law of his breed, the universal law of the 
forest, the law of Indian and grizzly alike, — 
which is to kill. 

Such a battle could not last. With a low 
growl the crippled grizzly brought himself to- 
gether and struck with the full force of his 
powerful arm. The blow fell short. 

Urging his waning strength to one last 
effort, the Ah-wah-nee-chee raised his club 
high above his head and brought it down 
with a heavy, well-aimed stroke that crushed 
the grizzly's skull and sent him rolling among 
the boulders, dead. 

That night as the Ah - wah - nee - chees 
feasted themselves on bear meat, the story 
of the young chief's bravery was told, and 
told again; and from that hour he was known 
as Yo-sem-i-te, the Large Grizzly Bear. 

In time the name Yo-sem-i-te was given 
to all the tribe of Ah-wah-nee-chees, who 
[9] 



^ 



^m 





for fearlessness and lawlessness were rivaled 
only by the grizzly with whom they shared 
their mountain fastness. And when long after- 
ward the white man came and took Ah-wah- 
nee for his own, he gave it the name by 
which Ten-ie-ya's band was known; and 
Cho-look, the high fall that makes the earth 
tremble with its mighty roar, he also called 
by the name of the Large Grizzly Bear, 
Yo-sem-i-te. 



:uj<i ^atmcxy ddi 



"And the oaks unfurl their soft green banners in welcome 
of the coming summer." 



#— 



mw"^ 



P O - H - N O 

SPIRIT OF THE EVIL WI-ND 




Po-ho-no, Spirit of the Evil Wind 



THE white man calls it Bridal Veil. 
To the Indian it is Po-ho-no, Spirit 
of the Evil Wind. 

The white man, in passing, pauses to watch 
the filmy cloud that hangs there like a thou- 
sand yards of tulle flung from the crest of the 
rocky precipice, wafted outward by the breeze 
that blows ever and always across the Bridal 
Veil Meadows. By the light of mid-afternoon 
the veil seems caught half-way with a clasp 
of bridal gems, seven-hued, evanescent; now 
glowing with color, now fading to clear white 
sun rays before the eye. 

The Indian, if chance brings him near this 
waterfall, hurries on with face averted, a vague 
dread in his heart; for in the meshes of the 
Bridal Veil hides an eerie spirit, a mischievous, 
evil one — Po-ho-no. In the ripple of the water 
as it falls among the rocks, the Indian hears 
Po-ho-no's voice. In the tossing spray he sees 
the limp forms and waving arms of hapless 
victims lured by the voice to their destruction. 

The Indian's mistrust of Po-ho-no dates 
[13 






Po-ho-no, Spirit of the Evil Wind 

back to a day of long ago, a bright blue day 
of early spring such as the children of Ah- 
wah-nee love, when the valley has thrown off 
its white winter blanket, and dogwood blooms, 
and the oaks unfurl their soft green banners 
in welcome of the coming summer. It was 
the time when deer begin to trail, leaving the 
lowlands of the river for the higher ranges ; 
and while the men hunted in the forest, the 
women went forth to gather roots and berries 
for the feast. 

The Sun had come back from the south ; 
and as he stood high in the heavens looking 
into the valley over the shoulder of Lo-yah, 
the Sentinel, three women were tempted to 
stray from the others and wander along a 
trail that led high above the valley to the 
spot whence the misty spray of the waterfall 
flutters downward. 

They talked with what zest women may 

whose simple lives give them no secrets to 

hold or betray. They laughed as they filled 

their baskets, stooping to scrape the earth from 

[14] 





For in the meshes of the Bridal Veil hides * * Po-ho-no. 




1^ 




Po-ho-no, Spirit of the Evil Wind 



a tender root, to strip the seed from a stalk, 
or gather grasses used in basketry; and their 
voices were as the purling of lazy waters 
gliding over stones. They were happy, for as 
yet they knew naught of the joy-sapping fever 
of discontent. 

Of a sudden the laughter ceased, and in 
its stead arose the mocking wail of Po-ho-no, 
Spirit of the Evil Wind. The youngest of 
the women, venturing near the edge of the 
cliff to pick an overhanging wisp of grass, had 
stepped upon a rock where moss grew like a 
thick-woven blanket. She did not know that 
the soft, wet moss was a snare of the Evil 
One, and even as the others cried out in 
warning, Po-ho-no seized her and hurled her 
down among the rocks. 

A pair of helpless arms waving in despair; 
long, loose hair sweeping across a face, half 
veiling one last look of terror — and she was 
gone. If she uttered a cry, the sound was 
lost in the gleeful chatter of Po-ho-no and his 
impish host. 

[15] 



t 



Po-ho-no, Spirit of the Evil Wind 



The two 



left above dared not 



women 
near the treacherous ledge, lest they too come 
within reach of the vengeful Spirit. Afraid 
even to give a backward glance, they hurried 
down the steep path to spread the alarm. 
Scarce was their story told before a band of 
daring braves rushed to the rescue of the 
maiden; but though they searched till night 
among the rocks where the water swirls and 
leaps to catch the rainbow thrown there by 
the western sun, they found no trace of her. 
The maiden's spirit had joined the forces of 
Po-ho-no, and could know no rest, nor be 
released from his hateful thrall, until by her 
aid another victim was drawn to his doom. 
Here she must stay, hidden by the mist from 
watchful eyes, beckoning always, tempting al- 
ways, luring another soul to pay the forfeit of 
her own release. Then, and then only, would 
the spirit of the maiden be free to pass on to 
the home of the Great Spirit in the West. 

Since that day of long ago many of the 
children of Ah-wah-nee have fallen prey to 
[16] 




^^^ 




Po-ho-no, Spirit of the Evil Wind 

Po-ho-no, the restless Spirit of the Evil Wind, 
who wanders ever through the caiion and puffs 
his breath upon the waterfall to make for him- 
self a hiding-place of mist. Now every Ah- 
wah-nee-chee knows this haunt of the Evil 
One. By day they hurry past, and not one 
would sleep at night within sight or sound of 
the fall lest the fatal breath of Po-ho-no sweep 
over him and bear him away to a spirit land 
of torture and unrest. 



117] 




x\ 



In its stead they left a pointed rock lodged in the cliff." 



•iHiPHpapHfSMPainMP 



H U M - M O O 






Hum-moo, the Lost Arrow 

TEE-HEE-NEH was the fairest of the 
daughters of Ah-wah-nee, and the 
happiest, for she was the chosen 
bride of the brave Kos-soo-kah. 

When she went forth from her father's 
lodge to bathe in the shadowy depths of Ke- 
koo-too-yem, the Sleeping Water, her step was 
light as the touch of a wind-swept leaf upon 
the rocks. When she stooped to lave her 
cheeks in the cool spray, her dark hair fell 
about her shoulders like a silken web, and 
the water mirror showed her a pair of laugh- 
ing eyes of the color of ripened acorns, and 
in them the soft light of an Indian summer 
day. The sound of her voice was as the 
patter of rain on green leaves, and her heart 
was fearless and full of love. 

No other woman of the tribe could weave 
such baskets as grew by the magic skill of 
her fingers, and she alone knew the secret of 
interweaving the bright feathers of the red- 
headed woodpecker and the topknots of moun- 
tain quail. Her acorn bread was always 
[21] 



^^^^^ 





Hum-moo, the Lost Arro 



w 




sweetest, the berries she gathered ripest, the 
deerskin she tanned softer than any other; 
and all because of the love in her heart, for 
she knew that Kos-soo-kah would eat of her 
bread and fruit, would drink from the baskets 
she wove, would wear upon his feet the 
moccasins she made. 

Kos-soo-kah was a hunter, fearless and 
bold, sure with bow and spear, always fortu- 
nate in the chase. In his veins ran the blood 
that surges hot when there are daring deeds 
to do, and of all the young chiefs of Ah- 
wah-nee he had the greatest power among 
his people. Like the wooing of the evening 
star by the crescent moon was the mating of 
Tee-hee-neh with Kos-soo-kah; and when the 
young chief gathered together robes of squirrel 
and deerskin and of the skins of water-fowl, 
arrows and spear-heads, strings of coral and 
bear teeth, and gave them as a marriage token 
to Tee-hee-neh's father, the old chief looked 
upon him with favor. 

This was their marriage. But before Tee- 
[22] 





Hum-moo, the Lost Arrow 




hee-neh should go with Kos-soo-kah to his 
lodge there must be a great feast, and all day 
long Ah-wah-nee was astir with signs of 
preparation. 

From many shady places came a sound like 
the tap-tap-tapping of woodpeckers, where the 
older women sat upon smooth, flat rocks 
pounding dried acorns into meal to make the 
acorn bread; and the younger women went 
with their baskets to the meadows and woods 
for grass seeds, herbs and wild honey. 

Early in the morning Kos-soo-kah left his 
lodge and gathered about him the strongest 
of the young braves to go forth into the for- 
est and net the grouse, and seek the bear and 
deer in their haunts, for this was the man's 
share of the marriage feast. While his hunters 
strung their bows and fastened arrow-heads 
to the feathered shafts, Kos-soo-kah stole away 
for a last word with Tee-hee-neh, his bride; 
and when they parted it was with the promise 
that at the end of the day's hunt Kos-soo- 
kah should drop an arrow from the cliff be- 
[231 



^^^^^^ 



^o 





tween 

the Caiion of the Arrow-wood. By the number 
of feathers it bore, Tee-hee-neh could tell what 
the kill had been. 

The morning mists were still tangled in 
the pines when Kos-soo-kah and his hunters 
began to climb the trail that cut into the 
heart of the forest. From a covert spot Tee- 
hee-neh watched her lover disappear through 
the cleft in the northern wall, where the arrow- 
wood grows thick; then she joined the other 
women and worked with a light heart until 
long shadows stretched across the meadow 
and warned her of the hour when she was 
to be near the foot of Cho-look to receive 
the message from Kos-soo-kah. 

Far over the mountains Kos-soo-kah 
laughed loud with a hunter's pride as he 
bound to his swiftest arrow all the feathers of 
a grouse's wing. Sped by a hunter's pride 
and a lover's pride he leaped along the rocky 
trail, far in advance of the youthful braves of 
his band who bore among them the best of 
[24] 



S 



^ 



Wr^lf 






the kill. Eagerly he watched the western sky, 
fearful lest the sun's last kiss should tinge the 
brow of Tis-sa-ack before he reached the 
cliff whence his bow should let fly the mes- 
sage to the waiting one below. 

The frightened quail fluttered in his path 
unseen. A belated vulture, skimming the fading 
sky, seemed not to be in motion. So swiftly 
Kos-soo-kah ran, the wind stood still to let 
him pass. 

He reached the valley wall at last, his 
strength well spent but still enough to pull 
his bow to a full half-circle. Poised for an 
instant, the feathered shaft caught on its tip a 
sun ray, then flew downward; but though 
mighty and sure the force that sent it, no 
message came to the faithful Tee-hee-neh. 

Hour after hour she waited, the joy in 
her heart changing to a nameless fear as the 
blue sky faded gray, and the gray went purple 
in the thickening dusk, and yet no sign, no 
sound of the returning hunters. 

" Kos-soo-kah ! Kos-soo-kah ! " trembled her 
f25l 



S»' 



^^^^^^ 




Hum-moo, the Lost Arrow 




voice in the stillness. Only a weird echo an- 
swered, " Kos-soo-kah." 

Perhaps they had wandered far, and Kos- 
soo-kah could not reach the cliff till the night 
shadows had crept out of the valley, and over 
the tops of the mountains. Perhaps even now 
he was returning down the Canon of the 
Arrow-wood. This she whispered to a heart 
that gave no answering hope. 

She would go forward to meet him, and 
hear from his lips the message which the 
arrow failed to bring. As she hurried along 
the narrow trail, clinging to the slanting ledges, 
pushing aside the overhanging branches, she 
called and called, " Kos-soo-kah ! " 

Now and again she stopped to listen for 
the sound of voices, or of footsteps, but only 
the cry of a night bird or the crackling of 
dry twigs stirred the still air. 

Trembling with uncertainty and fear, she 
reached the top of the sharp ascent. There 
by the light of the stars she saw fresh foot- 
prints in the loose, moist earth. Her heart 
1261 



^ 



■i::::xif'i^>'<^ 



o o 




"Crouching there * * she called again, ' Kos-soo-kah ! ' 



tm 



Hum-moo, the Lost Arro 




w 



told her they were his; her quick eye told her 
they went toward the cliff, but did not return. 
Crouching there beside them, she called again, 
" Kos-soo-kah ! " Not even an echo answered 
the despairing cry. 

Slowly she crept forward, following the 
fresh trail to the edge of the wall. She leaned 
far over, and there on a mound of fallen rock 
lay her lover, motionless, nor answering her 
call. Tight in his grasp was the spent bow, 
the sign of a promise kept. 

As she looked, there came again to Tee- 
hee-neh's mind the dull roar of rending rock, 
the low moan of falling earth, that ran through 
the valley at the sunset hour. Now she knew 
that as Kos-soo-kah drew his bow to speed 
the messenger of love, the ground beneath his 
feet had given way, carrying him with the 
fatal avalanche. 

The girl's heart no longer beat fast with 

fear. It seemed not to beat at all. But there 

was no time for grief, — perhaps Kos-soo-kah 

had not ceased to breathe. On the topmost 

[27] 





Hum-moo, the Lost Arrow 

point of rock she lighted a signal fire, and 
forced its flames high into the dark, Hashing a 
call for help. It would be long, she knew, 
before any one could come; but this was the 
only chance to save Kos-soo-kah. 

Hours passed. With feverish energy she 
piled dry branches high upon the signal fire, 
nor let its wild beckonings rest a moment. At 
last old men came from the valley, and the 
young braves from the mountains bearing with 
them the carcasses of deer and bear. 

With their hunting-knives they cut lengths 
of tamarack, and lashed them together with 
thongs of hide from the deer killed for the 
marriage feast. By means of this pole they 
would have lowered over the edge of the cliff 
a strong young brave but that Tee-hee-neh 
pushed him aside and took his place. Hers 
must be the voice to whisper in Kos-soo-kah's 
ear the first word of hope; hers the hand to 
push aside the rocks that pinioned his body; 
hers the face his slowly opening eyes should see. 

They lowered her to his side; and, loosing 

:28] 





Hum-moo, the Lost Arro 



the cords that bound her, she knelt beside 
him, whispering in his ear, " Kos-soo-kah ! " No 
sound came from the cold, set lips. The wide- 
open eyes stared unseeing at the sky. Tee- 
hee-neh knew that he was dead. 

She did not cry aloud after the manner 
of Indian women in their grief, but gently 
bound the helpless form with the deerskin 
cords and raised it as high as her arms could 
reach when the pole was drawn upward; 
then waited in silence until she was lifted by 
the willing hands above. 

When she found herself again at Kos-soo- 
kah's side, she stood for an instant with eyes 
fixed upon the loved form, there in the cold, 
starless dawn of her marriage day; then with 
his name upon her lips she fell forward upon 
his breast. They drew her away, but the 
spirit of Tee-hee-neh had followed the spirit 
of Kos-soo-kah. 

The two were placed together upon the 
funeral pyre, and with them was burned all 
that had been theirs. In Kos-soo-kah's hand 
[291 





was the bow, but the arrow could not be 
found. The lovers had spirited it away. In 
its stead they left a pointed rock lodged in the 
cliff between Cho-look, the High Fall, and 
Le-ham-i-te, the Cafion of the Arrow-wood, in 
token of Kos-soo-kah's fulfilled pledge. This 
rock is known to the children of Ah-wah-nee 
as Hum-moo, the Lost Arrow. 




" The moon floated high above Cloud's Rest." 



Py-we-ack, the White Water 




SINCE the peaks of Sky Mountains were 
little hills, the Ah-wah-nee-chees have 
lived in the deep, grassy valley the 
vv^hite man knows as Yo-sem-i-te. Eastward 
of To-co-yah, the Acorn Basket Rock, live 
the Mo-nos; and for a thousand years the 
sachems of the Ah-wah-nee-chees and the 
sachems of the Mo-nos smoked the pipe of 
peace together. 

In the autumn when the Great Spirit 
swept through Ah-wah-nee with a breath of 
frost, painting the leaves all scarlet and gold 
and brown, scattering tufts of snow-white 
cloud across the blue sky, and weaving a web 
of bluish haze among the green pine tops, the 
Ah-wah-nee-chee braves prepared for the last 
great hunt of the year. The feast of the 
manzanita berries was past, and the feast of 
acorns, and after the autumn hunt came the 
feast of venison. 

As the time of the feast drew near, run- 
ners were sent across the mountains, carrying 
a bundle of willow sticks, or a sinew cord or 
[33] 




Py-we-ack, the White Water 




leaf of dried grass tied with knots, that the 
Mo-nos might know how many suns must 
cross the sky before they should go to Ah- 
wah-nee to share the feast of venison with 
their neighbors. 

And the Mo-nos gathered together bas- 
kets of piiion nuts, and obsidian arrow-heads, 
and strings of shells, to carry with them to 
give in return for acorns and chinquapin nuts 
and basket willow, which do not grow on the 
farther side of Sky Mountains and which the 
Great Spirit has given in plenty to the chil- 
dren of Ah-wah-nee. 

At the feast the great chiefs sat side by 
side and the smoke of their pipes curled into 
a single spiral in the air. And when all were 
gorged with food, they danced about the fire 
chanting the mighty deeds of their ancestors, 
or sat upon the ground playing the ancient 
hand game, he-no-wah, staking their arrows 
and their bearskin robes, their wampum and 
their women upon the hand that held the 
hidden willow stick. 

1341 




A 




Py-we-ack, the White Water 

Not only in their pastimes were they 
friends. When the Great Spirit wafted a 
soul to the happy land in the West, the run- 
ners went again across the Sky Mountains 
and the tribes gathered together to join in the 
funeral dance and mingle their voices in the 
funeral wail. In grief, as in joy, they were 
friends, — for a thousand years. 

But the law of the mountain and the 
forest is not a law of peace, and it was the 
will of the Great Spirit that they should not 
dwell always in harmony. 

The Ah - wah - nee - chees numbered more 
men than women; and from time to time 
bands of young braves, in the flush of primal 
strength, swept through the country with the 
ungoverned madness of a bullock herd, carry- 
ing away women from the villages they raided. 

When the Mo-no men came to Ah-wah- 
nee to the feasts of the manzanita berry and 
of acorns and of venison, they brought their 
women with them. These mountain women 
were pleasing to the eye, erect as the silver 
[35] 



^^^^^^^^ 



Py-we-ack, the White Water 



fir that grows upon the mountain side, clean- 
limbed and free of motion as the panther; 
and more than all others were they coveted 
by the Ah-wah-nee-chees, who chafed under 
a friendship that thwarted desire. 

And the story is told that at a certain 
feast of venison Wa-hu-lah, a Mo-no maiden, 
stirred the fancy of a young warrior of 
Ten-ie-ya's band. Spring, the love season of 
Nature's children, had passed the young war- 
rior many times since he came to manhood, 
and he had not heeded her soft whisper. But 
never before had he seen Wa-hu-lah, the 
Mo-no maiden. 

Now, through all the time of feasting, he 
watched eagerly for the love sign in Wa-hu- 
lah's eyes; but he saw there only the depth 
and the darkness and the mystery of a pool 
hidden in the heart of a forest of pines, which 
no ray of sunlight pierces. 

Love was dead in the heart of Wa-hu- 
lah. On her face could still be seen dim 
traces of mourning, lines of pitch and ashes 
[36] 




Py-we-ack, the White Water 



not yet worn away, though there had been 
two seasons of grass and flowers since her 
voice rose in the funeral wail beside the pyre 
of her dead lover. She had not died as the 
dove does when her mate is gone; but she 
could not forget, and as she sat among the 
feasters sorrow throbbed in her heart like the 
ceaseless whirr of a grouse's wing. The Ah- 
wah-nee-chee warrior sought in vain for an 
answering sign, and when the days of feasting 
were over Wa-hu-lah went away with her 
father. 

Day and night the Ah-wah-nee-chee thought 
of his love; the face of Wa-hu-lah was ever 
before his eyes; and he knew that he must 
follow her and bring her to his lodge. But 
already the snow-clouds resting on the peaks 
of Sky Mountains were scattering their bur- 
den, soft and white as the down of Tis-sa- 
ack's wings. Valley and forest lay lifeless 
under a thick blanket, and the trails were 
choked with snow. 

The Ah-wah-nee-chee's love smouldered 
[37] 



Py-we-ack, the White Water 



through the winter months, with naught but 
the memory of Wa-hu-lah's sad, unanswering 
eyes to feed upon. Far away, in the wig- 
wam of her father, Wa-hu-lah nursed her 
grief. 

At last spring came, with soft, straying 
winds that breathe of new life. Birds sang 
in the trees as they built their nests; squirrels 
chattered softly among the rocks; Too-loo-lo- 
we-ack, the Rushing Water, babbled of the 
joys of summer; and Yo-wi-we dashed from 
the heights to carry the message of love 
brought by the sun from the southland to all 
the valley. 

While yet the trails were heavy with 
melting snows, the Ah-wah-nee-chee warrior 
stole away from his lodge one night and set 
his face toward the rising sun, yonder to the 
eastward of To-co-yah; and ere the day god 
had wrapped himself in his flaming cloud 
blanket in the far-off West, the Ah-wah-nee- 
chee was smoking the peace pipe with the 
chief of the Mo-nos, Wa-hu-lah's father. 
[38J 





.q<3 ;u uiJ>;ii- 



'The white spirits of the water threw themselves around the maiden 
and hid her in a shroud of spray." 




Py-we-ack, the White Water 

Before the sun again strode the bald 
peaks of the Sky Mountains, he was gone ; 
and when the women came forth to make 
ready the morning meal, the old chief saw 
that Wa-hu-lah was not among them; and he 
knew that the spirit of the peace pipe had 
been violated. 

Wa-hu-lah made no struggle when she 
found herself borne along in the arms of her 
captor. Her heart beat like the heart of a 
hunted thing that feels the hunter near and 
cover far away, but her face showed no sign. 
It was useless to resist; but had the Ah-wah- 
nee-chee looked into the still, sad depths of 
her eyes, he would have seen there a glitter- 
ing spark, the fire of a woman's lasting hate. 

Along the heavy trail he toiled, and not 
until he reached the kinder paths that Spring 
had cleared did he let Wa-hu-Iah's feet rest 
upon the ground. Then she walked before 
him, silent, submissive, but with the spark still 
glowing in her downcast eyes. 

Silent, submissive, she followed as he led 
[39] 



^^^^^^ 




Py-we-ack, the White Water 



the way to the place he had prepared for 
her, — a woodland bower, pine carpeted, roofed 
with boughs of oak and alder, the couch of 
branches spread with deerskin. 

Silent, submissive, she ate of the food he 
brought her, fresh bear meat and acorn bread, 
and grass roots fattened by the melting snows. 

Silent still, but with submission changed to 
defiant purpose, she watched him go away 
and take his place among the braves of his 
tribe who ate as the women prepared their 
food. Hunger possessed him and he gave no 
thought to caution. At another time his quick 
ear might have caught the sound of twigs 
snapping under the pressure of a moccasined 
foot; now it heard only the hiss of meat 
thrown upon live coals. 

The moon floated high above Cloud's 
Rest and the valley was full of light, yet 
none saw the dark figure that crept stealthily, 
warily, into the shadow of the crouching 
chaparral, keeping with the wind that blew 
from, not toward, the camp-fire. Once only 
[40] 




Py-we-ack, the White Water 

Wa-hu-lah paused, and turned to see that she 
was not discovered; and from her eyes shot 
one swift look that would have killed, could 
looks deal death. Then she sped forward on 
the trail that led from Ah-wah-nee, with its 
blossoming dogwood and azalea, its buckthorn 
and willow, to the snows of the higher moun- 
tains, the home of her people. 

Swiftly she ran, frightened by the night 
shapes that danced before her in the path, 
nor daring to slacken her pace or give a 
backward glance. But scarce had she passed 
through the spray thrown across the trail by 
Py-we-ack, the White Water, when she heard 
wild shouts rising from the half-darkness 
below, shouts that told her the Ah-wah-nee- 
chees knew that she was gone, had started in 
pursuit. Behind her on the trail her footprints 
lay naked on the yielding earth, and she knew 
that here in Ah-wah-nee the men of Ten-ie-ya's 
band knew every path that she might choose, 
every tree and rock where she might find a 
hiding-place. Already the race was won. 
[41] 



^^^^^^^K 




Py-we-ack, the White Water 



Nearer they came, her Ah-Wcih-nee-chee 
captor and a score of braves who joined 
with boisterous shouts this chase that had no 
need of cunning since for a weak prey there 
was no escape. 

Among the trees they caught uncertain 
gKmpses of the fleeing figure, but at last 
Wa-hu-lah bounded into a clear, broad stretch 
of moonlight where the trees fall back to let 
the river widen to a calmer course after its 
reckless plunge from the cliff above. 

The pool that shines emerald bright by day 
lay still and black with the pale gold moon 
upon its breast. Straight for its bank Wa-hu- 
lah ran, and as her foot touched the rocky 
ledge, her pursuers sprang with a cry of 
triumph into the open. Not a moment did 
the maiden dare to lose. Stooping, she 
unloosed the canoe that floated in the shadow 
of the ledge, a canoe used by the Ah-wah- 
nee-chees in crossing the Emerald Pool. 

Stepping into the shallow bark, Wa-hu-lah 
pushed it from the shore, and with quick 
[42] 





Py-we-ack, the White Water 

strokes drove it toward the middle of the 
stream, where she knew the water ran swift 
and deep and strong. 

Like some strange night bird the canoe 
skimmed the surface of the pool, the girl 
erect, defiant, her long black hair tossing, 
winglike, on the wind. Drawn by the cur- 
rent it glided on, dark and silent, toward 
Py-we-ack, where the water with a second 
leap dashes itself to death upon the rocks. 

Along the shelving bank the baffled Ah- 
wah-nee-chee ran, but swifter ran the dark 
and silent figure in the stream; and even as 
the young chief plunged into the icy water in 
one last effort to reclaim his stolen bride, the 
boat slipped over the edge of the cliff and 
went to pieces on the rocks, where the white 
spirits of the water threw themselves around 
the maiden and hid her in a shroud of spray. 

Thus Wa-hu-lah proved herself faithful to 
her Mo-no lover, and the Ah-wah-nee-chee 
was cheated of his bride. 



(431 



i*::] b::iil V/0J3 



"Along the edge of the river and over the meadows * * one can 
now find tiny white violets." 



TU-TOCK-AH-}^^«A}t 
TI S - SA - AGK 







Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah and Tis-sa-ack 



SINCE the world was young Tu-tock-ah- 
nu-lah, the Rock Chief, had guarded 
Ah-wah-nee, the home of the children 
of the sun. For his watch-tower he chose a 
storm-tried rock on the northern wall of the 
valley, and from this far height defied all 
the powers of evil. 

In the spring he besought the Great 
Spirit to send rain that the wild corn might 
hang heavy with tasseling grain, the berries 
cluster thick on the branches of the manza- 
nita, and the fish abound in the waters of 
the river. In the summer he fattened the 
bear and deer, and in the autumn he wan- 
dered through the mountains driving them 
from their haunts that the hunter might not 
return empty-handed from the chase. The 
smoke of his pipe spread like a soft haze 
through the air, sheltering the women from 
the sun when they went forth to gather acorns 
and wood for winter. 

His form was like a spear, straight and 
strong; and he reared his head high above 
[471 



Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah and Tis-sa-ack 



the clouds. In his arm was the strength of 
an untamed grizzly; and his voice was like 
the sound of Cho-look, the great fall that 
thunders down from the north, starting deep 
echoes from crag and gorge. When the sun- 
light danced upon the water, the Ah-wah- 
nee-chees were happy, for they knew that 
Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah smiled; when the sky was 
overcast, they trembled, fearful of his frown; 
when his sighs swept mournfully through the 
pines, they, too, were sad. The children of 
Ah-wah-nee loved the mighty Rock Chief who 
dwelt above them in his lonely lodge. 

One morning, as his midnight watch drew 
to a close and the first pale glint of day 
shone on his forehead, he heard a soft voice 
whisper, "Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah!" 

His eyes burned with the passion fire as 
a fair vision rose before him, yonder on the 
granite dome of the southern wall. It was 
the form of a maiden, not of the dark tribe 
he loved and guarded, but fairer than any he 
had seen or known in dreams. Her face 
[48] 






Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah and Tis-sa-ack 



had the rosy flush of dawn, her eyes took 
their color from the morning sky, and her 
hair was like strands of golden sunlight. Her 
voice was low as a dove call when she 
whispered Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah's name. 

For a moment she lingered, smiling; but 
even as the Rock Chief leaped from his 
tower in answer to her call, she glided 
across the rounded dome and faded from his 
sight, leaving her throne shrouded in a snowy 
cloud. Piqued by the mystery of her flight, 
Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah followed the sound of her 
rustling garments, wandering aU day over the 
mountains; but the pine trees wove a blue 
mist about her, hiding her from his eyes. Not 
until he returned to his citadel at night did 
he see her face again. Then for an instant 
she appeared upon her throne, her pale brow 
tinged with the rose glow of the sun; and 
he knew that she was Tis-sa-ack, the Goddess 
of the Valley, who shared with him the lov- 
ing care of the Ah-wah-nee-chees. 

Every morning now at dawn Tu-tock-ah- 
[49] 




Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah and Tis-sa-ack 

nu-lah left his tower and sped across the 
valley to meet the lovely goddess of his 
heart's desire. Through the day he hovered 
near her, gazing upon the fair form, always 
half hidden by billowing cloud, trying to read 
an answering love in her wdde blue eyes. 
But never again did he hear the voice that 
came to him across the valley in the stillness 
of that one gray dawn. 

Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah's passion grew day by 
day, as summer ripens the fruits of spring- 
time budding; but Tis-sa-ack had no joy in 
his love. Her heart was heavy with a great 
sorrow, for she saw that the Rock Chief was 
blind to the needs of his people, that he had 
forsaken those who looked to him for life. 

The sun burned his way through the sky, 
and no rains fell to cool the aching earth. 
Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah paid no heed to the with- 
ering leaves of the wild corn, the shrunken 
streams from which the fisherman turned 
with empty nets, the shriveling acorns that 
fell worthless to the ground. He neither 
[50] 




Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah and Tis-sa- 



knew nor cared that the hunter, after weary 
days in the mountains, came to his lodge at 
night with arrows unused, to meet the anxious 
glance of starving women and hear the wail- 
ing cry of hungry children. 

The Ah-wah-nee-chees called upon the 
Rock Chief in vain. He did not hear their 
cries ; he thought only of his love. The harvest 
moon looked down into the valley and saw 
the dark form of Famine skulking there. 
Then it was that Tis-sa-ack's love was swept 
away by an overwhelming pity; and as she 
lay upon her couch she cried out to the 
Great Spirit to send the rain-clouds that 
bear life to all things of the earth. 

And even as she prayed, there came 
an answer to her prayer. With a voice 
of thunder the Great Spirit gave commands 
to the spirits of the air. With a barbed 
shaft of lightning he rent the granite dome 
where Tis-sa-ack prayed; and from the 
cleft rock came a rush of water that filled 
the dry basin of Wai-ack, the Mirror Lake, 
1511 




wandering stream 
thirsty fields. 

Now the withered corn-stalks raised their 
drooping heads, flowers nodded among the 
waving grasses and offered their lips to the 
wild bees, and the acorns swelled with sap 
that crept upward from reviving roots. The 
women went joyously into the fields to gather 
the harvest, and the men no longer returned 
with empty pouches from the forest or fished 
by the riverside in vain. 

The chief of the Ah-wah-nee-chees ordered 
a great feast, and all faces were turned in grati- 
tude to the dome where Tis-sa-ack dwelt. But 
Tis-sa-ack was gone. She had sacrificed her 
love, her life, for the children of Ah-wah-nee. 
Through her they had suffered; through her 
their sufferings had ceased; and that all might 
hold her memory dear she left them the lake, the 
river and a fragment of her throne. Upon the 
bosom of Ke-koo-too-yem, the Sleeping Water, 
her spirit rests, wandering sometimes of a summer 
evening to the Half Dome, there to linger for a 
[52] 



.iii3ino/:c 



"Her spirit, * * wandering * * to' the Half Dome, there to linger 

for a moment.' 




moment as the sun slips over the western 
wall of the valley. 

As she flew away a soft down from her 
wings fell upon the earth; and where it fell, 
along the edge of the river and over the 
meadows stretching toward Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah's 
watch-tower, one can now find tiny white 
violets, whose fragrance is the secret of a loving 
spirit, a breath of happiness to all who gather 
them. 

When Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah found that Tis-sa- 
ack was gone, a great sadness came upon him. 
Day and night his sighs swept through the 
pine trees. He puffed gloomily at his pipe until 
his tower was hidden in a cloud of smoke. 
At last, thinking to follow and find his lost 
love, he went away; and lest he be forgotten, 
he carved with his hunting-knife the outlines 
of his face upon the wall of his fortress, which 
the white man has named El Capitan. 

As he turned sadly from his lodge, Tu- 
tock-ah-nu-lah perceived that the air was filled 
with a rare and subtle perfume, blowing from 
1531 



Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah and Tis-sa-ack 

a stretch of meadow fringed with tamarack. 
Thinking it the breath of Tis-sa-ack, he fol- 
lowed on and on, forgetful of the arts of E-ee- 
ke-no, who dwells among the water-lilies in 
the lake which the Three Brothers hold in 
the hollow of their hands. 

E-ee-ke-no had long loved the Rock Chief, 
but Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah scorned her unsought 
love, which turned through jealousy to bitter 
hate. Now as she saw him go away in search 
of Tis-sa-ack, she threw around him the mystic 
fragrance of the water-lily, which, gentle as a 
caress, is deadly to all who win the hatred of 
E-ee-ke-no. 

On and on across the meadow fringed 
with tamarack, among the wild flowers and the 
waving grasses, Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah wandered, 
following blindly the transformed spirit of E-ee- 
ke-no until he disappeared forever in the 
depths of the lake. 



[54] 



Forever and forever the Three Brothers sit looking over each other's 
shoulders from the north wall of Ah-wah-nee." 



KOM-PO-PAI-SES 

LEAPING FROG ROCKS 





Kom-po-pai-ses, Leaping Frog Rocks 




FOREVER and forever the Three 
Brothers sit looking over each other's 
shoulders from the north wall of 
Ah-wah-nee. 

The Indians likened these peaks to frogs 
sitting back upon their haunches ready to leap, 
and called them Kom-po-pai-ses, the Leaping 
Frog Rocks. This the white man did not 
know when he named them the Three Brothers. 

The story of the Three Brothers is his- 
tory, not tradition. It has to do with the 
coming of the white man to Ah-wah-nee, and 
the downfall of Ten-ie-ya, the last chief of 
the Ah-wah-nee-chees. 

Across the plains that billow away toward 
the sea, Ten-ie-ya watched the approach of 
the white stranger, having always in mind the 
words of the old man who was his counselor 
when he left the land of his Mo-no mother 
and returned to Ah-wah-nee to rule over his 
father's people. 

The patriarch had heard the call of the 
Great Spirit, bidding him to the happy land 
[57] 




> 






Kom-po-pai-ses, Leaping Frog Rocks 

of the West, and had told Ten-ie-ya many 
things. This, last of all: 

"Obey my word, O Ten-ie-ya, and your 
people shall be many as the blades of grass, 
and none shall dare to bring war into 
Ah-wah-nee. But look you ever, my son, 
against the white horsemen of the great plains 
beyond ; for once they have crossed the west- 
ern mountains, your tribe will scatter as the 
dust before a desert wind, and never come 
together again. Guard well your stronghold, 
O Ten-ie-ya, lest you be the last of the 
great chiefs of Ah-wah-nee." 

The faded eyes had the light that comes 
when the call of the Great Spirit sounds very 
near, and the feeble hand of the patriarch 
trembled as he raised his pipe above his 
head, and said : 

"Great Spirit, I pray be good to my son, 
the chief of the Ah-wah-nee-chees. Toward 
the pines, north, cold wind treat him kindly; 
toward the rising sun, east, great sun shine 
upon his lodge in the early morning; toward 
[58] 



y 



'Jiwmmi^^r^ 





Kom-po-pai-ses, Leaping Frog Rocks 

the place where the sun goes in winter, south, 
bless my son ; toward the land of the setting 
sun, west, waft on the breezes a peaceful 
sleep. And, lowering my pipe, I say, kind 
mother earth, when you receive my son into 
your warm bosom, hold him gently. Let the 
howl of the coyote, the roaring of the bear 
and the mountain-lion, and the sound of 
winds swaying the tops of the pine trees, be 
to him a sweet lullaby." 

Because of these last words of the dying 
seer, Ten-ie-ya guarded his mountain retreat 
as a she-bear guards the refuge of her young. 
With vague foreboding he saw the white 
horsemen coming nearer. They took the land 
that the Great Spirit had made for the peo- 
ple of his race. They burrowed into it like 
moles, and washed the sands of its rivers, 
searching for something yellow and shining 
that the Indian neither knew was there nor 
cared to know. They grazed their horses 
and their cattle upon the broad stretches that 
had been the Indian's hunting-ground since 
[59] 



a^^^^^^^sm 





Kom-po-pai-ses, Leaping Frog Rocks 



time began. They even went so far, these 
pale-faced strangers, as to steal Indian women 
for their wives. And always they made their 
camps nearer and nearer to Ah-wah-nee. 

While the vigor of youth remained, Ten- 
ie-ya did not fear these men of an alien 
race. He only hated them. With his band 
of lawless Grizzlies he stole forth in the night 
and drove away their horses to kill for food ; 
and as they feasted, drunk with the taste of 
warm blood, their spirits were made bold, and 
the deep gorge rang with shouts of defiance. 

But Ten-ie-ya grew old, and the white 
horsemen of the plains, now strong in num- 
ber, were at the very walls of Ah-wah-nee, 
The words of the dying patriarch were ever 
in his ears, and he knew that the evil day 
was come. 

At last the white men climbed the western 
mountains, offering gifts in the name of the 
Great Father, their chief; and when they 
went away they led Ten-ie-ya captive to their 
camp. The young braves fled from Ah- 
[60] 



lA 



^i<^<^^)ii 




" Toward th^ pines, north, cold wind treat him kindly." 




Kom-po-pai-ses, Leaping Frog Rocks 

wah-nee, across To-co-yah, the North Dome, 
to the home of the Mo-nos. It was well 
that Ten-ie-ya should go to the plains, they 
said; but they were young and could find 
plenty in the mountains; they would not go 
to be herded like horses in the white man's 



Though he appeared to yield, the spirit 
of Ten-ie-ya was not broken. Like a wild 
beast in captivity, he chafed under restraint. 
With the cunning of his race, he watched his 
chance; and when it came, he returned to his 
stronghold in the Sky Mountains, bearing in 
his heart a fiercer hate for the white man, a 
hate made keener by defeat, a hate that 
burned for revenge. 

But an evil spell seemed cast upon the 
children of Ah-wah-nee. They were scat- 
tered, and they did not rally round their 
chief. Again the white horsemen climbed 
the western mountains, this time without 
gifts. But day and night signal fires had 
burned upon the mountain tops; and when 
[61] 




^s^a 





Kom-po-pai-ses, Leaping Frog Rocks 

the messengers of the Great Father entered 
Ah-wah-nee they found the valley deserted, 
save for five dark figures that darted like 
shadows from tree to rock at the base of a 
jagged spur of the northern wall. 

Feeling themselves secure because of the 
swollen river that lay between, the five scouts 
came into the open when discovered, and 
mocked the strangers; then disappeared up the 
side of a cliff so straight and pathless that no 
white man could follow. By fair promises 
carried to them by an Indian guide they 
were induced to come into camp, and three 
of them were found to be sons of Ten-ie-ya. 

It does not speak for the faith of white 
men that one of the brothers was killed while 
held as hostage until the aged chief should 
come in and deliver himself to the messengers 
of the Great Father; and that only an uncer- 
tain aim saved another who tried to escape 
through the Canon of the Arrow-wood, 
where his father was hiding. When he saw 
it was useless to resist further these fearless, 
[62] 






Kom-po-pai-ses, Leaping Frog Rocks 




faithless horsemen of the plains, who had 
stolen his lands and his women, who would 
not let him live in peace in his mountains, 
Ten-ie-ya came down from Le-ham-i-te, the 
Canon of the Arrow-wood, by a trail that 
led into the valley through the branches of 
a giant oak. 

The first sight that met the gaze of the 
twice-conquered chieftain was the dead body 
of his youngest son. He spoke no word, but 
lines of sorrow appeared in the hard, old 
face; and secretly, in the heart of the night, 
he had the young chief's body carried away 
— none knew where. Once more he tried 
for his liberty; once more was captured. 
Then in a passion of grief and rage, he 
turned his bare breast to his captors, and 
cried : 

"Kill me, white chief, as you have killed 
my son, as you would kill all my people if 
they would but come to you. You have 
brought sorrow to my heart. For me the 
sun shines no more. Kill me, white chief, and 
[63] 



1^5 





tootsteps torever. 1 will not leave the spirit 
world, you will not see me, but I will follow 
you where you go and you will know it is 
the spirit of the old chief, and you will fear 
me and grow cold. This is the message of 
the Great Spirit." 

But Ten-ie-ya's hour was not yet come. 
He was to die, for an act of treachery, at 
the hands of the Mo-nos, his mother's people. 
Even so, the prophecy of the seer was ful- 
filled, for the white horsemen of the plains 
had crossed the western mountains, the tribe 
was scattered, never to come together again, 
and Ten-ie-ya was the last great chief of the 
Ah-wah-nee-chees. 

Because his three sons were captured at 
its base, the triple peak in the northern wall 
was given the name Three Brothers. 



[64] 




^^ 




THIS EDITION OF YOSEMITE LEGENDS WAS 
DONE FOR PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY 
AT THE TOMOYE PRESS, SAN FRANCISCO, IN 
THE YEAR NINETEEN HUNDRED AND FOUR 




n u J i~i t I ^ V 




